Strange Pages from Family PapersThiselton-Dyer, T. F. (Thomas Firminger)
History
Strange Pages from Family Papers
Thiselton-Dyer, T. F. (Thomas Firminger)
Legends; Superstition
This story is found in many places, and the chest in which the poor
bride was found is shown at Bramshill, in Hampshire, the residence of
Sir John Cope. But only too frequently the young lady disappears from
some preconcerted arrangement; a striking instance being that of
Agnes, daughter of James Ferguson, the mechanist. While walking down
the Strand with her father, she slipt her hand out of his whilst he
was absorbed in thought, and he never saw her from that day, nor was
anything known of the girl's fate till many years after Ferguson's
death. At the time, the story of her extraordinary disappearance was
matter of public comment, and all kinds of extravagant theories were
started to account for it. The young lady, however, was gone, and
despite the most patient search, and the most persistent inquiries, no
tidings could be gained as to her whereabouts. In course of years the
mystery was cleared up, and revealed a pitiable case of sin and shame.
It appears that a nobleman to whom she had become known at her
father's lectures took her, in the first instance, to Italy, and
afterwards deserted her. In her distress, being ashamed to return
home, she resolved to try the stage as a means of livelihood, and
applied to Garrick, who gave her a trial on the boards, but the
attempt proved a failure. She then turned her hand to authorship, but
with no better success. Although reduced to the most abject poverty,
she would not make herself known to her relatives, and in complete
despair, and overwhelmed with a sense of her disgrace, in her last
extremity she threw herself on the streets, and died in miserable
beggary and wretchedness in Round Court, off the Strand. It was on her
death-bed that she disclosed to the surgeon who attended her the
melancholy and tragic story of her wasted life. But from the
localities in which she had habitually moved, she must have many a
time passed her relatives in the streets, though withheld by shame
from making herself known, when they imagined her to be in some
distant country, or in the grave.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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